118 SPRING-TIDE. 



But Tiney winced, and Tiney hunched, 



And Tiney cocked her nose, 

 And Tiney kicked the pail down, 



And the milk run auver his hose. 

 And 'tis Oh, Tiney ! " and " Wo ! Tiney !" 



And " Drat th' cow, bide still ! 

 If I milks zich a maggotty runt agen, 



'T will be zore agin my will ! " 



And he vorgot the hank o' yarn, 



And the puppy-dog stole it away ; 

 And he vorgot the speckled hen, 



And zo her layd astray : 

 A went to veed the hungry pegs 



A-grunting in the sty, 

 A run his nose agin a pwoast, 



And amwoast knock'd out his eye : 

 " A vine joke, my yead's broke ! 



A plague on the pegs and sty ! 

 If they gets no vittles till Doomsday, 



They '11 never be zarved by I." 



A left the crame to stand in the churm, 



And turnin' hizzelf about, 

 Lar' a massey haw ! there stood the zow 



A zlushin' in her snout ! 

 A stoop'd to pick a swingein' stick, 



To gie th' owld zow her hire ; 

 Her run between his legs in a vright, 



And drowed un into the vire. 



